


Saddle Up (All Night Long)

by Mytay



Series: A Little Extra Trouble [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: And Those Gun Holsters, Established Relationship, First Time, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Nudity, Riding Off Into the Sunset Together, Rocking Those Leather Pants, Space Cowboys - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 05:50:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16717621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mytay/pseuds/Mytay
Summary: “It’s just,” Lance tried again, “I can’t figure out how to do this? We’re engaged, and living together, and we kiss a lot. I’m not really all that down with taking you back out into the desert for some romantic survival excursion, and there’s no fancy restaurant or …”Lance was a romantic, but even he could flounder when out of his element — and they'd done this whole thing so entirely backwards that Keith couldn't help but laugh a little at Lance's endearingly frustrated expression.“You could’ve just set up a candle on our nightstand and flat-out asked me?" Keith suggested. "I lived in a shack for a year, Lance. I'm pretty low-maintenance.”Lance and Keith have been working hard as space cowboy mercenaries for over two months now. Newly engaged and riding the high of a successful heist, they're settling in for the long haul ... And since they've already done so many things out of order, Keith is completely okay with kicking off their honeymoon phase before they even get married.





	Saddle Up (All Night Long)

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't think I would write this story? Someone asked me on Tumblr about Lance and Keith's first time, and I genuinely didn't think I would ever write it, and yet ... Here we are :)
> 
> This is part of the space cowboy 'verse [_Trouble's Making Everything All Right_](https://archiveofourown.org/series/640874), but I don't think you need to read it to understand what's going on — this story is just about two dudes in love, trying to figure out their next steps :) All you need to know is that they are also currently stranded on a crime-filled planet, and they've become space cowboy mercenaries to survive ;)
> 
> I hope y'all can have fun with this! *hugs*

******

 

Lance was a romantic.

 

Keith knew this before he’d begun crushing on the Blue Paladin. After they’d admitted their feelings, but also agreed not to do anything until after the war (or until Keith couldn’t wait any longer), Lance kept up with his affectionate teasing, his flirting, and his unwavering care …

 

Lance was absolutely the sort of person who would propose marriage with a softly lit dinner while someone played a violin, a ring in the champagne glass … Or out on the beach with a skywriter … Or in a quiet bedroom with candles on every surface …

 

Point being, Keith had stolen Lance’s thunder by proposing to a backdrop of explosions and gunfire, while they were on the verge of dying for the sake of a failed heist (which turned into an epic success and paved the first steps to their way off this damn rock).

 

Lance seemed pretty okay with that. In fact, he relished telling the story and mocking Keith with it in turn, his eyes alight with glee with each retelling. Their now booming business as The Two McClains involved way more violence than they’d previously been comfortable with, but Lance smiled and laughed so much more. He tugged Keith in close for kisses as often as he could, even when they should be keeping an eye on their target …

 

“Pfft, easy. Just need to make sure he doesn’t leave the building before Wesdru gets here,” Lance said, his mouth brushing against Keith’s neck, right over the bruises he’d already left behind the day before. “This is her gig, not ours.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes, which Lance obviously couldn’t see, determined to either add a new bruise or darken the others so Keith was never, _ever_ without hickeys. “Right, but if you keep doing what you’re doing, and this guy gets away? Wesdru will kick our asses, _and_ we won’t get our cut.”

 

A fierce bit of suction had Keith’s eyelids fluttering — _crap,_ Lance was _good_ at this.

 

“Hm.” Lance pulled away to whisper into Keith’s ear. “Fair point.” A brief nibble of Keith’s earlobe and then suddenly the warm length of him was gone.

 

Keith had to swallow down a disappointed hiss as the cool air hit his skin without Lance enveloping him from head to toe. The nights could get astonishingly cold in this desert world, but thankfully, they hadn’t had to experience the worst yet. Even so, it was distinctly chillier than it had been during the day.

 

Wesdru’s mark, a short, blue-skinned guy with several guns strapped to his person, poked his head out of the door. Keith immediately straightened, Lance doing the same while also pulling out his new favourite rifle.

 

“Alive?” Lance whispered.

 

“Preferably — she’s going to deliver him to Ollewa for interrogation.”

 

“Yikes.” Lance winced. “Seems like she would prioritize this job over Jorlack’s.”

 

“Jorlack is still her boss. Ollewa's contract is a side job.” Keith nodded his head at the mark. “Guess we have to do the wrangling for her.”

 

“I bet I can hit the barrel of his right hip pistol. Should cause a tiny explosion. Freak him out, get him flat on his ass. Easy pickings.”

 

“Yeah, and what are you putting on the line for this bet?” Keith asked, keeping his eyes focused on the alien — he seemed overly cautious, which made sense, considering he had one of the biggest bosses in the five towns hunting him.

 

“My virginity?”

 

Keith whipped around, his mouth open and no sound coming out. Lance fired his gun, and the alien shrieked — he clutched his hip, yowling as he fell backwards into the building and out of sight.

 

“That better not have been a kill-shot,” Wesdru said, appearing behind them.

 

Lance glanced up into her red-scaled face, grinning ruefully. “Nah, just caught him in the side. Which wasn’t my original plan, but even I can’t be perfect all the time.”

 

Wesdru reached over to ruffle his hair with a clawed hand. “You’re a special breed of pest, you know that, McClain? But thanks for keeping him in one place — I’ll finish off this job, and drop off your payment with Yathir sometime tomorrow.”

 

“Cool,” Lance agreed. “Have fun!”

 

The huge alien woman snorted, nodding at Keith with a vicious grin before striding across the street to her second job of the night.

 

“That …” Keith finally found his words. “How …”

 

“Look, I was thinking about it, and …” Gone was the suave smirk, the relentlessly flirtatious tone, the sparkling eyes. Now Lance looked nervous and embarrassed, and rather adorably confused. “We’ve been sleeping in the same bed for two weeks, and we’re in each other’s space like, _all the time._ Which isn’t a bad thing!” Lance rushed to say — no doubt Keith’s face had shown discomfort with the direction Lance might be heading in.

 

 _Lance_ had been the one to take Yathir up on his offer of the larger room (the room the older alien had suggested their very first night at his inn). Keith had come around to the idea when he saw that they would have their own bathroom, but also when he saw the bed — the mattress was no better than the pair they’d been using these last couple of months, but the fact that he could sleep with Lance so close had sealed the deal.

 

Keith had been resting better than ever, with Lance’s even breaths in his ear, with his waist tucked under his arm …

 

“It’s just,” Lance tried again, “I can’t figure out how to do this? We’re engaged, and living together, and we kiss a lot. I’m not really down with taking you back out into the desert for some romantic survival excursion, and there’s no fancy restaurant or …”

 

Lance was a romantic, but even he could flounder when out of his element — and they'd done this whole thing so entirely backwards that Keith couldn't help but laugh a little at Lance's endearingly frustrated expression.

 

“You could’ve just set up a candle on our nightstand and flat-out asked me?" Keith suggested. "Maybe brought up a piece of Yathir’s pie for us to share? I lived in a shack for a year, Lance. I'm pretty low-maintenance.”

 

“That’s … a really great idea,” Lance said, sounding surprised. “I don’t know why I thought blurting it out like … Wait, have _you_ been thinking of ways to get into my pants?”

 

The thought had crossed Keith’s mind ...

 

Sometimes, when Lance fell asleep first and Keith was left watching him, he’d run a hand through Lance’s hair, smile at the way Lance would nuzzle in closer. Sometimes he'd daydream while they were stuck waiting on a mark or guarding a shipment. Daydream about taking Lance back to the inn, maybe just sweeping him off his feet and dropping him onto their bed … And yes, once he’d imagined exactly what he’d just described; a quiet night with a candle and a warm piece of pie, and then …

 

But they’d been so busy. They’d been dealing with the ramifications of taking out Dreyulin, of their newfound fame bringing in all kinds of work. They constantly calculated and re-calculated how many gems they’d need to get off this planet, and how much they would pay Yathir each week for their room at his inn (far more than the older alien had originally stipulated — they couldn’t do any less, not when they factored in the food and the protection he provided). They’d been out exploring the towns, getting familiar with the surrounding territory and all the various nooks that they could use as hideouts, or the places that were dangerous to linger in …

 

He’d honestly been too drained to really think of having sex with Lance beyond a few dreams and a few more daytime fantasies … And since Lance had never brought it up, Keith figured his fiancé had a similar line of thought.

 

But now?

 

Keith stepped in close, his hands settling on Lance’s waist. Lance’s breath hitched, his eyes widening. Keith didn’t make the first move often, mostly because he liked the effect it had on Lance when he _did_ reach out without prompting — that sharp spike of awe and delight.

 

“Lance, I _proposed_ to you because I want you in my life for however long we’re both breathing,” Keith said, nearly nose-to-nose with him. “I … I kinda thought some of that life would involve sex? So, yeah, I’ve occasionally thought about it. With you.”

 

“Have you …” Lance trailed off breathlessly, his arms coming up to wrap around Keith’s shoulders.

 

“No,” Keith answered honestly with a self-conscious little smile. “Never really met anyone who … There was the group home, and then the Garrison, and no one ever really tried to know me, except Shiro, and he’s like my brother. And I couldn’t just … be naked with anybody. I didn’t _trust_ anyone enough for that.”

 

He didn’t say it to get pity, and Lance didn’t offer him any. His eyes grew sad for a moment, and he brushed a sweet kiss against Keith’s lips. “I’m sorry I didn’t try and get to know you back on Earth.”

 

“I wouldn’t have let you,” Keith admitted.

 

Lance kissed him again, smiling against his mouth. “I would’ve been really persistent if I’d figured out the crush thing sooner. Like, you saw how persistent I was the last year.”

 

“I did. You’re annoying as hell.” Keith stole a kiss far more intense than the last. “It’s probably a big part of why we’re here, like this.”

 

Lance had gasped a little when Keith pulled away. He stared at Keith’s mouth for a moment, and then lifted that dark gaze to meet Keith's eyes. “Hey, so … I did lose that bet?”

 

“I didn’t technically agree to it,” Keith couldn’t help but point out, yet even as he spoke, his hands snaked around Lance’s waist to his back, dragging him in so they were pressed even closer than they had been earlier. “But I won’t argue if you’re still offering to pay up.”

 

The grin he got in response managed to be both charming and nervous. Lance had been using his good looks and naturally flirtatious personality to wine and dine a few new clients, to up their pay, to distract their marks … He was getting alarmingly _good_ at it (most people on this planet had a _type,_ and Lance just so happened to be it). But when it was just him and Keith, those hints of anxiety, of insecurity, shone through.

 

Keith recognized that the real Lance was a contradictory combination of both confidence and fear, which only _Keith_ got to see.

 

For all of Lance’s _come hither_ stares and sly winks towards their marks or clients … Only _Keith_ would actually get to have him …

 

He kissed Lance before his partner could conjure up a witty reply. He could feel the moment Lance’s tension evaporated — he melted into all of Keith’s sharp edges and hollowed out bits. They were tangled up in each other, kissing as though they had all the time in the world, nowhere to be …

 

“Back to the inn?” Keith murmured against the corner of Lance’s mouth.

 

“Mm-hmm,” Lance hummed. “But only if you gun it. I think I still have the record for fastest travel time—”

 

“I think I have the motivation to beat _that,_ ” Keith said dryly. He blushed a bit when Lance threw his head back and laughed at the crack in his voice.

 

“Sure thing, _querido._ ” He leaned back in to peck Keith’s nose. “Who needs candles — my fiancé is gonna give me a wild ride before we even get to the _main_ ride.”

 

Keith groaned. “Oh my god, Lance. No.”

 

“That is not the worst joke I could make.” Lance started walking back towards their new truck (“new” being a relative term — it was rusted and creaking, but it also had armoured sides and a wicked engine). “In fact, it was pretty lame and tame, dude.”

 

“Yes, yes it was, but please don’t kill the mood with whatever you consider extreme.”

 

“Keith, _Keith—”_ Lance chattered excitedly, blue eyes wide as he obviously thought up some kind of horrendous pun or one-liner.

 

They were strapped in by this point, so Keith did the one thing he knew would shut Lance up.

 

He gunned it.

 

“Holy _fuck!”_ Lance shouted, both his hands gripping his headrest, his eyes widening even further.

 

Keith narrowly avoided a couple of late night pedestrians (who either shot or cursed at them as they roared past), and once they were past the buildings of Hutton, he _really_ pressed down on the acceleration. While Lance yelped out warnings, Keith deliberately swung in close to the various rock formations and massive cactus-like bushes, brushing close enough feel the scrape of them along the sides of the truck — just enough to mark the paint, not enough to do any real damage.

 

But Lance alternated between excited exclamations and terrified shrieks throughout the entire ride back to Dagos. When Keith pulled the truck into its usual space with a fairly spectacular one-eighty spin, Lance ripped off seatbelt and crawled his way into Keith’s lap before the engine had completely cut off.

 

“Ow, damn it,” Keith hissed out as knees and elbows jabbed him in sensitive places, but he was grinning the entire time he complained.

 

Lance completely ignored Keith’s winces, his knees falling into place on either side of Keith’s hips, his hands seeking out skin, either pressing against his neck, sliding down to wriggle between the buttons on his shirt, or yanking at his waist line, untucking it from his pants so he could slide up to his belly and ribs …

 

“It’s a time honoured tradition to lose your virginity in car, right?” Lance breathed out against Keith’s mouth. “I’m down if you are.”

 

“Lance,” Keith tried to speak, but soon he was otherwise occupied. His own hands were seeking smooth brown skin, catching a few new scars, particularly that now familiar stab wound that had healed into a thin raised line, no way indicative of the close call that had been … He stroked up and down that line now, Lance whimpering into the lack of space between them, and Keith knew that if Lance worked his hips any closer to his, then Keith would give in, no question, out in public or not …

 

But that dark sliver of possessiveness cut into his thoughts, and the even stronger, lighter urge to give Lance something better, something softer and sweeter than this … They could absolute have _this_ another time, but for their _first …_

Keith gripped Lance’s hair and tugged just enough to pull him back. “I want to take my time, Lance. And, uh, I want to not worry about random aliens watching us.”

 

Lance pouted, but only for a second, before grinning sheepishly and reaching over to open the driver’s side door. “Two very good points.”

 

They stumbled out together, Lance falling onto his knees, Keith pulling him by one arm as he closed the door, the two of them laughing. They hushed each other as they reached the inn’s steps, and it was late enough that they had to use their keys to get in, as Yathir had closed up shop. They didn’t race up the stairs — instead they took them slowly, avoiding the creaking spots. Keith couldn’t help smiling every time Lance held up their joined hands, brushing his lips against Keith’s knuckles or the tips of his fingers.

 

When they reached their room, closing and locking the door behind them, they ended up _both_ staring at their bed. The bed they’d been sleeping in for two weeks without problem. The bed that suddenly seemed like a strange and new land to explore.

 

“Um … shower,” Lance said quickly. “We’re all … dusty. Also, um …” Lance waved at himself. “I actually have a …” He closed his eyes tightly. “Holy crap, why is _this_ the hardest conversation now?”

 

“You want to what, Lance?” Keith asked, using their linked hands to tug at him. He tried for a reassuring smile, then gave up. “Okay, so I’m sort of freaking out. Can we just agree that we’re both stupid and nervous and maybe that’ll make things easier?”

 

“Yes, good!” Lance said with an enthusiastic nod. “Right. So, I’ve done research into this like … way back. Back on the Castle, back. And I know what to do, and we have stuff that’ll work — like that gel we used on our muscles after that freaking ridiculous sprint between Jorlack’s and Gunthra’s warehouse—”

 

“Rest in peace speeder that apparently couldn’t back for shit and blew up on contact with cacti,” Keith recalled, grimacing. But also blushing because that gel had been nice, and if it could be used for _other_ purposes …

  
“We don’t have to use it for, um, the more _intense_ stuff,” Lance tried to speak without stuttering, Keith thought, and he mostly succeeded. “Because we don’t have to do super crazy intense stuff right away. Like, this is a first time, but obviously we’re going to have many _other_ first times. This is just the first of the first times, right?”

 

“… Got it,” Keith said, and he felt his shoulders relaxing somewhat. Right. They didn’t have to do _everything_ tonight. “We got time to figure this out.”

 

Quite suddenly, the fact that they were alone hit Keith (kind of alone — there were other guests in the inn, though Keith wasn’t sure in which rooms, but Yathir was discerning of who could stay within these walls; no one ever posed a threat, at least not while in Yathir’s quietly intimidating presence).

 

They were alone, and they had an entire night (and morning) to do … whatever they wanted. In fact, _nothing_ was pulling them away from each other — they had no war to fight, no diplomatic concerns, no training that they couldn’t just skip out on. Keith was willing to forgo sparring tomorrow for the sake of a lie in, just this once …

 

Not unlike his first day by himself in this dad’s tiny home in the desert, Keith felt oddly free. That day, after being kicked out of the Garrison, finally facing the consequences of his emancipation … It hadn’t been a particularly _good_ day. The freedom hadn’t felt like much of a bonus then. Not with Shiro missing, and his access to Garrison resources cut off (until he figured out how to sneak on base and take what he needed) …

 

This, _this_ time was different. He was away from Shiro again, but he knew where Shiro was. He could tamp down on the anxiety of not being there to watch his back (or Pidge’s back, or Hunk’s), because at least they all had each other, and Allura, and Coran, and every other member of the Voltron Alliance.

 

Keith could pack away those sources of stress and stare at Lance in awe because _he could have this without restraint, without a time limit,_ and Lance, Lance was his fiancé.

 

Who seemed to be having a similar epiphany while staring at Keith, his brows climbing his forehead, his mouth parting on a soft little sigh. “Yeah. Time. We’ve got time. So. I am going to take a shower, and do some, ah, prep, too.”

 

Keith was not at all ignorant of the various things they could so. He smiled, still nervous, but no longer feeling overwhelmed. “Yeah, I think … I might do the same, after you? So we have options, I mean.”

 

Lance’s eyes had been wide at various times this past night, and Keith thought that maybe _this_ was the biggest they had ever been. He laughed a bit, pushing Lance towards the bathroom. “Okay, we may have tons of time, but not if we just stand around like dorks. Get moving.”

 

They took their showers, and the waiting stretched the tension out until it felt almost … normal. Keith took the most thorough shower of his life, concentrating about as much as he did when practising a new flight maneuver or learning a different take down combination for sparring. By the time he was red and scrapped clean, prep finished, he actually felt much better in the sense that _this much_ he could understand and do without help. He’d educated himself while alone in another desert, his Internet connection decent, and his searches pretty … varied. Shiro had given him a talk, too, and as useful as it was, and blunt as Shiro had been, Keith really didn’t want his pseudo-older brother’s narration in his head while he was … doing certain things.

 

He stared at himself in the mirror — Lance had emerged from the shower in just a towel, not bothering with clothes, shrugging and saying, “ _I’m nervous, Keith. As much as I would appreciate the full experience of taking off each other’s clothes, if I put anything on, I can’t guarantee I’ll let it come off again.”_

To which Keith had replied, “ _Lance, I will never make you do anything you’re not comfortable with, so—”_

_“Man, I know and don’t worry — this is a level of discomfort I am extremely interested in getting comfortable with.”_ Lance had winked. The towel had dropped a bit, exposing hip bone and a line of muscle … Keith could have sworn he’d seen this much and more of Lance’s skin before, yet his entire focus had narrowed to just those few square inches …

 

Lance had to physically shove him into the bathroom.

 

Now, Keith had also decided that putting on clothes again seemed fairly pointless. He tightened the towel around his waist and walked back out into the room. The air was slightly cooler, the room a touch dimmer. Lance had flicked off the overhead light, leaving the only other lamp in the room on — the one that sat on Keith’s night table — to cast a soft golden glow just a couple of feet from itself.

 

The curtains were half open to allow for a clashing silver beam of moonlight to fall across the bed where Lance sat, his feet planted on the floor as he leaned back on his arms, smiling shyly at Keith. “Hey.”

 

“Hey,” Keith answered. He sat down next to Lance and fell back onto his forearms, turning his head to look him in the eyes.

 

Lance edged in closer, tilting his head in question, and Keith nodded minutely. Lance lifted one hand to cradle Keith’s face as he kissed him. Slow. Exploratory. The slightest tremble. But eventually he settled in — Keith lifted his own hand to rest on Lance’s bare shoulder, pushing gently, just a suggestion. Lance fell back leisurely, letting Keith take the lead for a couple of minutes. The night air had cooled the room significantly, the window slightly cracked open, allowing a few soft whistling breezes in. Keith shivered as one such breeze hit his back.

 

Lance moved away just far enough to ask, “Want to get under the covers?”

 

Keith nodded. “Yeah. Um. Without the towels?”

 

Lance bit his lip. “I figured.”

 

Without hesitation, he dropped a hand down to his waist, and the towel just … fell. Lance shoved it onto the floor and turned to reach up for the edge of the covers in one motion, exposing the long line of his back to Keith’s eyes, which had widened as though to better take in every single detail. Lance had reason to be so damn smug about his looks.

 

Keith reached out before Lance could fully turn back around to face him, trailing three fingers from the top of Lance’s spine down, taking it so slow that he had time to count three lengthy breaths from Lance. Before he hit the very end of Lance’s bony vertebrae, he skated those fingers to his hips — to those hipbones he found so very distracting. Cupping one in his hand, he tugged Lance back around and … Lance’s skin flushed pretty much _everywhere,_ and it was a sight Keith wanted burned into his vision forever.

 

Lance reached out to put a hand on Keith’s chest, and red in the face though he was, he still managed a saucy little grin and teasing lick of his lips. “C’mon, querido, let’s make this fair, hm?”

 

If he couldn’t touch Lance until he’d gotten rid of the towel, then, well, good-bye towel. It went flying, landing on the flimsy wooden chair in the corner. Lance kept his hand on Keith’s back, his eyes darkening to something Keith had never seen before. A midnight blue, his gaze so fixed that it reminded Keith of Lance staring down the scope of his rifle.

 

Another breeze prompted a shiver from both of them, and then they were scrambling to get under the covers, Lance giggling a bit, then yelping when Keith’s cold feet hit him in the calves. “Oh, shit, Keith, geez, you mood killer!”

 

“Mood killing is my toes being frozen into icicles. Just give me a minute,” Keith said, and he couldn’t help but laugh again, pulling Lance in close before he remembered _holy shit, we’re naked._

To be fair, Lance seemed to have forgotten this fact as well, though they were both very much reminded when they’d taken up one of their favourite sleeping poses; tangled together, their legs wrapped around each other’s legs, Keith’s right arm wrapped around Lance’s back, Lance’s left arm between them, hand resting against Keith’s chest …

 

“Huh.” Lance exhaled at length. “Um. Hey, remember when I said we don’t have to do everything tonight?”

 

“Yeah?” Keith said, closing his eyes tightly as Lance shifted _even closer._

His lips were at Keith’s jawline, nibbling upwards towards Keith’s ear. “What if … we go for gold here? I mean, no harm in falling short, right? We can totally just try again in the morning … And tomorrow night …”

 

“You want to try everything?” Keith croaked out.

 

“I want to _try_ to try everything,” Lance corrected smugly. “Which is to say, maybe we do, likely we won’t, but … fun game to attempt, yeah?”

 

Keith considered it for less than half a second before he was kissing Lance, pressing his mouth into Lance’s neck, determined to leave several marks of his own. “And you’ll tell me if anything isn’t what you want?” He blew air over the beginnings of the hickey, and Lance huffed out a laugh. “Lance—”

 

“Yeah, I will, and you’ll do the same, please, Keith, just—”

 

As soon as the green light flicked on in Keith’s mind, his hands seemed to know _exactly_ where they wanted to go, and there they went, without his permission. But he wasn’t going to course-correct, not now, not when Lance seemed to enjoy it thoroughly, when the space between them grew too hot to be comfortable — they kicked off the blankets just a few minutes later. They worked at making every single thought that crossed their minds into a reality.

 

They didn’t get to do everything. But they did their best, laughed at themselves along the way, and buried their faces in their hands or pillows more than once from embarrassment. They fell asleep halfway through one of their ideas, and woke up frustrated at themselves, with the silver moonlight having morphed into the grey light of dawn. But then Keith said something to the effect of _screw it,_ and Lance burst out laughing, wiggling eyebrows and he said, _nah, man, screw me._

And, well, turned out they weren’t as tapped out for the night as they originally thought — the sun wasn’t up _yet._

 

The drowsiness fell away as Keith took his time, waking up by inches of Lance’s skin explored, and by the time they were actually ticking off a big _first_ from their list, Lance’s laughter had faded into soft moans, sharp little sounds of discomfort if Keith wasn’t slow or careful enough, if he slipped or handled him too roughly. They learned, they compensated, and things improved so gradually that Keith might have lost his mind by the end. He did lose his mind entirely, when Lance arched his back, one hand scrabbling up to grip the pillows above his head, his other hand plunging downwards. Keith let out a sound of his own, desperate and pleading, his eyes squeezing shut of their own accord — if he’d had more control, he would’ve kept them as wide open as possible, drank in every second of Lance’s muscles stretching, skin gleaming with sweat, hair an absolute disaster, and he still had sleep marks on his face, a bit of dried drool at the corner of his mouth.

 

Keith had opened his eyes, he didn’t know when.

 

He collapsed on top of Lance completely, snorting when Lance let out a curse in Spanish, kicking at Keith’s thigh with one of the legs still wrapped high around Keith’s back. Keith didn’t move for a long while, and Lance didn’t complain, beyond that testy little attack. They lay together, breathing nearly in sync, and eventually Keith rolled over to the side, allowing enough space so that still-cool air could gain access to more of his overheated skin.

 

“That … was a strong and valid attempt,” Lance said with a serious nod as he stared up at the ceiling. Keith looked over at him fondly, rolling his eyes, but unable to muster up anything other than a kiss to Lance’s shoulder.

 

“I mean, we did manage more than I expected,” Keith agreed after he’d had more time recover both breath and voice. “Though we did fumble about as much as thought we would.”

 

“Yeah, well, if we’d been great straight out of the gate, that would’ve been highly alarming. Awesome, but I would’ve figured one of us had been body snatched by some kind of incubus alien thing.” Keith snorted, smacking at Lance’s chest playfully. Lance caught his hand, keeping it right over his heart. “But we did get significantly better as we went. I think we’re _good_ at this, Keith. Like, so good we barely need more practise to be amazing.”

 

“But we’re going to practise?”

 

“We’re gonna practise so, _so much._ ”

 

Once they were less heated, they fell asleep wrapped around one another, again in their favourite position. Keith woke up with a mouthful of Lance’s hair, and Lance yawned hugely, cringing away from his own morning breath.

 

Their day proceeded as normal, with a couple of jobs in the afternoon and evening, but with a slight difference.

 

Everything Lance could do that normally distracted Keith a modest amount? Now it distracted Keith to the point of lethality.

 

Now, Lance could unbutton his shirt to expose collarbone, or tug that lower lip between his teeth, and instead of taking in the pleasant view for a few seconds and moving on, Keith would _have to_ back him into a dark corner, taking that mouth with his, hiking those deliciously long legs around his waist.

 

“It’s like a honeymoon phase,” Lance said into Keith’s hair as they rested after a guard job that had nearly turned into a total disaster — thankfully the idiots trying to steal Jorlack’s goods were a level of incompetent that had all five of them running and screaming into the night, a few new stab wounds and bullet holes to their names. After two minutes of rather one-sided fighting, the morons were gone … and Keith could finish what he’d started before they had been so stupidly interrupted.

 

At present, Lance was re-buttoning his shirt as Keith buried his face into Lance’s neck, groaning in an entirely different tone than he had been five minutes earlier.

 

“We’re not married.”

 

“ _Yet._ Being engaged kinda counts, right? This is our, _hey, we’re gonna get married_ celebration. As well as, _hey, we’re banging now_ party. It’s fun and parties all around.”

 

Keith should keep a running tally of all the times Lance had him rolling his eyes. He grinned a bit when Lance started fussing with Keith’s clothes.

 

“It’ll get better,” Lance said after he’d sorted both of them out. “I mean, it’s a thing that happens to all couples, right? Eventually, it gets less new and shiny, and we’ll be back to sparring at damn-you-to-hell o’clock in the morning, and crashing as soon as we hit the mattress after a job.”

 

Keith pressed one last kiss into the skin of Lance’s neck. “Right … But until then … Want to try and beat my speed record back to Dagos?”

 

Lance shoved Keith away, digging one hand into Keith’s pants to yank the keys free — though not before sneaking in a grope that left Keith gasping and grasping for Lance’s fleeing form. “Hold your horses, cowboy — we’ve got to wait for the buyer, and then we can bolt. Definitely gonna leave your time in the dust before we get to the good stuff.”

 

Twenty minutes later, gems in their coat pockets, another job done and added to The Two McClains’ reputation, Keith straddled Lance in the driver’s seat, quickly figuring out what was the fastest way to get to skin and to coax his favourite sound out of Lance (so far) — that half-broken moan, sometimes cut off by a sudden inhale. He leaned back against the steering wheel, staring in awe as Lance demonstrated a fair bit of flexibility and after _that,_ Lance sang a cheerful little song in Spanish the entire ride home, beating Keith’s time by a few paltry seconds.

 

Keith felt that new speed record was definitely worthy of a reward — like maybe trying out yet another new _first_ from their ever-growing list.

 

******

_Two Weeks Later_

******

 

Keith was legitimately concerned for their lives.

 

Since they’d crash-landed here, he always had a steady thrum of worry in the back of his mind. It rose up to prominence depending on the day and the job … But now it had nothing to do with anything or anyone around them. No, this was entirely _their doing,_ and if they didn’t _stop,_ one (or _both of them)_ was going to die.

 

“Hm, but what a way to go, right?” Lance said dreamily, sprawled out over a bunch of crates, half his clothes only barely clinging to his body, the other half on the floor of Gunthra’s warehouse, and _holy crap,_ anyone could have walked in on them (maybe someone _did_ — Keith certainly wasn’t paying attention up until a minute ago).

 

“Lance, someone could have just snuck up on us and _shot_ us,” Keith hissed, yanking his pants into place, buttoning his shirt, and throwing his jacket back on in the time it took Lance to sit up and comb through his messy hair. Keith checked his blades as Lance put his own clothing and guns into order.

 

Then he flashed that grin that meant _trouble,_ a very specific kind of trouble, and Keith hated that even as he worked up to a lecture about _needing to be on alert at all times when we’re not at Yathir’s_ and _we can’t be this reckless, Lance, it’s stupid_ … He wanted to walk over and mess Lance up all over again.

 

“Did I …? I did,” Gunthra said, causing them both to jump into the air, weapons out and pointed at the terrifying alien woman. She just pouted at them, her scimitar still in its sheath. “I heard some rather suspicious sounds, but I thought, _no, they’re not that idiotic._ But you are. And I _missed it._ I’m sure you could put on a show that would rival the best Denna has to offer.”

 

Lance blushed, but he still managed a wink and a rather proud little grin (too proud by half, Keith despaired). “Oh, you betcha. Sorry about defiling this room, we’ll get out of your hair now. All goods accounted for, by the way?”

 

“Your work, as usual, is impeccable,” Gunthra said with a cheerful smile, her eyes taking in Lance from top to bottom, lingering on his exposed neck and then dropping down to his thighs as he tucked his shirt in. “And I got a tiny little bonus at the end. You two definitely know how to keep your clients clawing you back for more.”

 

“Right. We’re done. Thanks, Gunthra.” Keith shoved Lance forward, heading right past her, one hand on his sword hilt, the other keeping Lance moving.

 

This had to stop.

 

But Keith couldn’t. He didn’t know how to _stop._

 

Even when, days later, Lance suggested something so damn _risky,_ so ridiculously _unnecessary,_ really, this was just … Keith slowed down as he drove, staring over at Lance with his mouth open. Lance just reclined back in his seat, his hands behind his head as he hummed yet another song Keith didn’t know.

 

“You’re actually serious about this?” Keith hated how high his voice went. “Lance, no way.”

 

“C’mon, dude,” Lance whined, rolling his body and _how did he do that while strapped into the damn truck._ “This is one of mine, okay? We tried your idea, and it was freaking fantastic—”

 

Keith spluttered. “My idea kept us in bed and away from _fatal car accidents._ ”

 

“Well, we’re in a hovertruck that’s pretty sturdy—”

 

“That’s actually _worse,_ Lance, our bodies will absorb the shock instead of the truck—”

 

“And you’re the best pilot in the Garrison, Keith,” Lance admitted, making a face like he’d just sucked on a lemon. “Ugh. I hated saying that. I can be your fiancé, and still hate saying that. Huh. But it’s true. I have total faith in your ability to keep us alive.”

 

There were no lights in the desert at night — just the moon, which glowed nearly as brightly as the one on Earth, silvery-blue. Not bright enough to catch any obstacles before the trunk’s not-so-high-beams did, pretty much too late to react. Though Keith’s reflexes were better than most. And he was a damn good pilot, whether air or ground vehicle.

 

 _Fuck,_ he was so whipped. This was not the first time he’d had that thought. He gave in wordlessly, sighing when Lance clearly read the _yes_ on his expression and fist-pumped, accidently hitting the roof the truck and cursing in pain … It would not be the last time he folded so damn easily.

 

Unless they died trying this.

 

On their way back from a late dinner at Jorlack’s, night pressing in around them, no one for miles, Keith sucked in a breath, as Lance alternated between crowing triumphantly and nursing his sore hand. Keith tried to find the widest, longest patch of clear desert, as far as he could see (which, granted, was further than most humans).

 

Once he felt like maybe he’d discovered the longest stretch of unobstructed terrain, he eased up on the pedal, leaning back while still keeping two hands on the wheel. He glanced over to see Lance running his thumb over his shining lower lip, looking all too eager, and if Keith hadn’t folded already, _that_ sight would’ve done him in immediately.

 

“Okay,” he said, hardly more than a breath.

 

Which he swiftly lost as soon as Lance dove at him. Keith might have laughed just a little bit when Lance tried to pull a fancy maneuver with his teeth and Keith’s zipper, but only managed to nearly chip a tooth. He also might have snorted when Lance complained about the steering wheel hitting him in the head twice, and Keith helpfully pointed out that the steering wheel was pretty much a fixed object, so Lance just needed better spatial awareness.

 

Lance somehow managed to shove a middle finger in Keith’s face then, which Keith batted away with yet another burst of laughter as he kept them going in a straight and steady line.

 

Then Lance actually got to his goal, and Keith’s foot immediately slipped off the acceleration pedal, air caught in his throat, a choked cough exploding from him. He swore in a rasp, moving his foot back into place, his hands white-knuckling the wheel, as he forced his eyes to stay wide, _wide_ open.

 

It was Lance’s turn to laugh, muffled yet so clearly smug, and Keith could feel the steering wheel actually _bending beneath his grip_ because Lance’s mirth felt far, far too good.

 

Sixty seconds later, Keith’s eyelids had fallen to half-mast, and one of his sweaty hands had slipped from the steering wheel to tangle in Lance’s soft brown hair. Splitting his concentration was playing horribly wonderful havoc on his mind.

 

Until the rock appeared, sudden _and huge,_ nearly taking up the entirety of Keith’s vision through the windshield.

 

“ _Fucking fuck,”_ he shouted, slamming on the brakes, the sudden stop jerking Lance’s head into the steering wheel.

 

By _some miracle_ Lance did not bite down — instead he coughed and yelled hoarsely, “What the _fuck,_ Keith!”

 

“Giant fucking rock, that’s what!” Keith wheezed out as Lance sat up, massaging both his head and his jaw. He cut Keith with a glare that lasted all of three seconds. Then he gave him a half proud, half sheepish look.

 

“How about we try that again, but facing away from this death rock?” Lance’s red lips pulled up into that same knowing grin from before their almost-way-too-embarrassing-end, and Keith threw his hands in the air.

 

“Are you _insane—_ “

 

“Kidding,” Lance said with two hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I’m kidding, querido. That … was a good try, but, um, probably not worth a repeat. And if you nearly murdered us that fast, I would probably kill us instantly if we switched spots.”

 

Lance tapped his chin with one finger, still far too at ease for Keith’s rapidly pounding heart. “What, Lance?”

 

He dropped his hand onto Keith’s thigh, squeezing lightly, expression apologetic. “Seriously, I really thought that would work. I’m sorry for nearly killing us.”

 

Keith stared down at that hand, laying there innocently, and then sighed, covering it with his own. “Okay. Technically, I was the one who nearly smashed us to pieces against the Death Rock. Let’s just … go back to the inn.”

 

Lance squeezed his thigh. “Agreed.”

 

He then stayed firmly on his side of the truck until Keith had parked the truck in front of the inn (they’d been about half an hour out of the way, which had given Keith’s heart enough time to calm, the adrenaline no longer pumping through his veins).

 

Once the engine was off, Lance reached over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Keith’s ear. It was strange, not something he did often, since Keith barely fussed with his own hair, and didn’t particularly care for others doing so. But the movement was so tender he didn’t mind it. He tilted his head into it, questioning without saying anything.

 

“Just … thanks. For these last couple of weeks. For … being amazing. Yeah, for being amazing in the obvious ways,” Lance said swiftly, blushing and winking, but then his smile transformed into something less suave and far more sweet. “I just can’t imagine ever doing this kind of stuff — the stupid, the dangerous, the amazing — with anyone other than you. So … thank you.”

 

Keith took his hand before it could fully retreat. He held it to his face, kissing the palm — fresh callouses from endless mornings of target practise, and long nights keeping himself and Keith alive.

 

“There was no one on Earth for me, no one in space either … But you, now, you’re everything I could ever want from the entire universe. I’m really lucky you recognized my mullet from that far away.”

 

Lance had been growing rather misty-eyed until that last bit — then he groaned, covering his face with one hand. He left the other in Keith’s grip as he muttered, “I so regret telling you that part.”

 

“Pretty sure you dig the mullet, Lance,” Keith said, completely and justifiably smug.

 

“Screw you, I’m not saying it.” Lance peeked at him from between his fingers. “It’s been a wild couple of weeks. Would you say we’re done with the honeymoon phase?”

 

“I say we’re done with the _too stupidly turned on to live_ phase,” Keith said as he got out of the truck.

 

When Lance had shut his own door and walked around to the front, Keith grabbed him by the lapels of his coat, all but throwing him against the bumper as he slammed his own body into Lance’s, mouth slanting over his, taking everything Lance could give him — which was far too much.

 

“But I think we’re probably going to be honeymooning until we get married,” Keith murmured against his lips. “And if it’s all right with you, we can finish what we started before the Death Rock upstairs in our bed. I’m willing try out any other ideas you have that involve staying in that room with the door closed.”

 

Lance drew him in for another, messier kiss, laughing as he said, “Oh, I think I’m out of ideas for now — but I’m totally down for repeats. We’ve had a lot of successes, worth two or three or a dozen re-tries.”

 

Keith showed his agreement by yanking Lance inside by the wrist, all but dragging him up the stairs, silencing his giddiness by shoving him against the bannisters or the walls, slanting their mouths together, parting Lance’s lips with his own, and they had to move, had to move quickly because they were unbuckling belts, ripping at buttons, even before they’d made it to their doorway.

 

For the first time in almost three months, Keith had nothing and no one on his mind other than Lance — that constant thread of concern unravelled and disappeared. There wasn’t anything worth thinking about other than Lance’s lips on his skin, his hands gripping his hips, the sounds escaping both of them, and rapid beats of their hearts, climbing, pounding, in their ears, nearly out of their chests.

 

And even _hours_ after, spent and aching and nothing left to give, Keith still felt at peace, Lance resting on the same pillow as him, his mouth parted, his eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks, and those hands holding Keith as if _he_ were the most precious thing in all the universe. But Lance, Lance was _every_ precious thing, and Keith couldn’t believe his luck.

 

He smothered a hysterical giggle into Lance’s hair, as just before he finally fell asleep, a nonsensical thought floated through his mind — _I am never, ever cutting off this mullet._

****** 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Part of this story was inspired by a memory Keith had in one of the space cowboy tales, which I decided to write out here — bonus points if y'all can tell me which story and what memory ;)
> 
> I haven't put this as part of the main space cowboy series because I'm not quite sure where to stick it? I might add it in once it's all done, but at the moment, it doesn't fit in with my current outline. 
> 
> If you read this and want to check out the space cowboy series to which I'm referring, check out the [first story here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9471236). If you're one of the lovely folks reading along already, I promise I'm working on the latest chapter of _Devil in the Eye_ — it's just slow going because this time of year is always incredibly hectic for me, and I have a new (third) job I'm starting soon, which is gonna compound the busyness.
> 
> If you don't already, feel free to follow me on [Tumblr](http://thisgirlhastales.tumblr.com/) where I answer questions, reblog things that make me smile, and sometimes do a little bit of random extra writing :)
> 
> Many thanks to anyone who has made it to the bottom of this note — I hope you enjoyed this story!


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